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Posts Tagged ‘solstice’

Almost to Solstice

 

 

There is a light and it never goes out

            —The Smiths, There Is a Light That Never Goes Out

 

 

And even in these darkest days

in the darkest rooms

with the darkest thoughts

and the darkest words

with the darkest songs

in the dark-full ears

and when the darkening dreams

weights the darkest fear

even then there’s a light

and it never goes out,

even then, when the eyes

know only doubt, even then,

even then, there’s a hand

eager to spill shine

into our cup and all

we need to do is drink,

then pour a bit of shine

for someone else.

 

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We used to sing

You are my sunshine,

sang it like

a children’s song,

all glitter and wing.

That was before

we knew

how dark it can get,

sky without stars,

night without moon.

Even the brightest songs

can be sung in a minor key.

That is no reason

to stop singing.

That’s the time

to ask someone

to dance, please,

slow, your bodies

practicing how

to make light.

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On this gray, near-drizzling day

I write again this love letter

 

for the earth, which is, I suppose,

what all poems are, though they

 

disguise themselves as poems about

children or wine or baseball or snow.

 

On this longest night, it’s so clear—

the truest reason to write at all is to fall

 

more deeply in love with the world,

with its trees and its drizzle

 

and its stubborn shine and its

relentless hunger and its corners

 

that will never ever ever see the growing light.

Fall in love with the octopus that can detach

 

an arm on purpose and then grow it back again.

Fall in love with the elusive lynx

 

and the crooked forest and the frazzle ice

tinkling in the San Miguel River.

 

Fall in love even with this profoundly flawed

species that, despite all its faults,

 

is still capable of falling more deeply,

more wildly in love.

 

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is it lighter?
I can’t tell—that’s the way
light is sometimes

*

remind me again,
what are we circling? and what
is it circling us?

*

not bell, not mirror
not sigh, not kiss, not morning,
not moon, not kiss, but

*

is it possible
that I might praise
everything

*

oh yes, I remember,
be a fool—that is what
the wise man said

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the truth
enters
the room
like a cold
cold breeze—
sometimes
we’re ready
for a break
from the heat,
sometimes
it’s just
so
cold

*

it’s not
as if we
can make ourselves
fall in love
with the world,
but I’ve noticed
that when
I look up
it’s more
likely

*

it is
after all
the longest night
and even though
tomorrow
it’s only one
more minute
of light
it is one
more
minute

*

I have been praying
for openings,
and behind
every door
that opens
another door

*

with my one
minute more
I don’t know
what I’ll do—
but I hope
I remember
to
look
up

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